Iain Martin is a political commentator, and a former editor of The Scotsman and former deputy editor of The Sunday Telegraph. He is the author of Making It Happen: Fred Goodwin, RBS and the men who blew up the British economy, published by Simon & Schuster.. As well as this blog, he writes a column for The Sunday Telegraph. You can read more about Iain by visiting his website

It is desperately sad, but of course shipbuilding in Britain is dying

In recent weeks it has become more apparent than ever that the shamelessness of the British political class knows no bounds. A blazing argument about rising energy prices is being conducted between a man (let's call him Ed, because that's his name) who, as energy secretary in the last government, did nothing to sort out the energy market and slapped on green taxes, and another man (David) who was an enthusiastic advocate of green taxes and voted for them with gusto. Neither has acknowledged that they might have made a mistake when they adopted their previous positions. In recent weeks they have just shifted, and started arguing different cases without any acknowledgment of their contribution to the mess. Both are taking people for fools.

Increasingly, this is the pattern. Perhaps the mind-bending properties of coalition are to blame. Or maybe it is the strange political weather we're having at the moment. We are headed for the most unpredictable and, in a way exciting, election in decades but the whole game bores so many people outside the bubble absolutely rigid. Watch PMQs any week for a glimpse into a strange parallel universe.

I am hardly naive about this. I have spent most of adult life around politicians and was trained to think of them as being like buses. There will be another one along in a minute. That is not to deny that there are very good people in Parliament in the various parties, some trying to get things done and others trying to prevent things being done by bossy big government. But still, politics post-crisis is in quite a serious mess. The decline of the two major parties, the crisis of our elites, the sense of powerlessness that globalisation has produced, and the reluctance of many at the top to tell it straight about epic ongoing economic changes which will have a human impact, all make for a disconnect between the governed and the governing.

The reality is that British shipbuilding has been in trouble since shortly after the Second World War. Commercially we fell behind, even though globally this is a golden age of shipping when tens of thousands of vast container ships criss-cross the globe carrying goods between continents. The decline in shipbuilding here had its roots in poor management stretching back to the late 19th century, trade union obstinacy, and the rise after two world wars of foreign rivals who could produce much bigger ships more efficiently. Capital which might have been invested in the UK catching up went elsewhere, when quite sensibly those with said capital observed that it could get much higher returns if invested in sectors and other markets that did not have the problems inherent in British shipbuilding and heavy industry.

The British yards that were left needed government orders, which means building for the Royal Navy. But the UK is in the process of shrinking its navy, as it is its army and air force. The money has run out and anyway the public is in no mood for any more foreign entanglements or wars. Once two giant aircraft carriers ordered by Gordon Brown (bill, £6bn and rising) are completed, there is various small-scale stuff planned. But the Royal Navy is envisaged not as a force that can rule the waves – and why should we? – but as a modest outfit with far fewer ships than historically we have been used to.

We can moan about all this. We can regret the human cost and ponder missed opportunities in the last century, although we should not make the mistake of believing that we no longer make anything in this country. The UK car industry is undergoing a renaissance with records being broken. But on shipbuilding? That boat sailed a long time ago. There is not a lot, this late, that can be done about it.